


dream boy

by kwitegay



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: And likes kissing him, Drinking, Figuring Yourself Out, George is even more confused, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Content, Sexuality Crisis, Sexuality Issues, Will is confused but really likes George, aaaaaaaa, like Vague Descriptions?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 21:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwitegay/pseuds/kwitegay
Summary: " Their eyes meet, and instead of the butterflies Will hears about in songs, he's met with a sinking feeling in his chest. It's like the ground is wrapping it's claws around his heart and pulling, and he's being sucked in.And then George smiles. It's lopsided and he looks nervous, but Will feels himself become stable again. It's like George is some tether to consciousness, his smile a sense of comfort. He feels the butterfies. "





	dream boy

**Author's Note:**

> as ive said before, i fucking love this pairing, so here's george and will figuring out who they are through kisses, confusion, and conversations.

He's annoying.

George is so, incredibly annoying.

At least that's the reason Will lands on for why he won't leave his mind. They're mates, of course, and it's not like Will doesn't find Alex annoying - God knows he is - but George is . . . different.

Everything bothered him - His hair, all fluffy and curling at the ends. His eyes and the way they crinkle when he laughs. His smile, all perfect and truly a sight to see when he allows himself to. Annoying. So fucking _annoying_.

He decides the only reason he feels a lurch in his breath when George touches him is because he's irritating, same for why he continues to almost avoid him during all the group outings.

George is a clingy drunk, enough said. He likes to drape himself over his friends and talk all too loudly into their ears, and Will doesn't think he can be bothered.

"Oi, handsy handsy," Will mumbles, shaking off George's fingers that were gripping his bicep through his jacket sleeve.

"Be nice to me for once!" George slurs, hand relocating to his shoulder, "Order me another drink."

"Don't think you need another one," Will chuckles, tapping at the bar nervously.

"I do. Always do," George's eyes are a bit cloudy and he's smiling crookedly at Will, shrugging loosely. "Wanna dance?" He asks, head jutting to where Alex, James, and Fraser were vaguely flailing around.

"Nah," Will responds, "Not nearly hammered enough, mate."

"You're boring," George decides matter-of-factly, "M' gonna go dance. Would be more fun with you, though."

He walks away, leaving an absence where his hands once were and for a second, Will misses him there. After that second he scolds himself. He's not _nearly_ drunk enough to be thinking of his friend that way.

He turns around, elbows on the bar counter and legs crossed as he looks onto the crowd. He looks at the girls, hair swaying with their movements, strands getting stuck in their lipgloss. Their dresses and blouses flowing, legs long and curved. He likes them. He knows that.

Reluctantly, he turns to look at the lads in the room, all sharp jawlines and broad shoulders, cuffed shirts and freshly cut hair. They weren't bad to look at all, and after a few moments Will finds a few that are even pleasant to set his gaze upon. Doesn't make him gay. Enjoying looking at lads doesn't make him gay. Or bi - or whatever other sexualities there are.

Alcohol. He needed more alcohol. Then he could find a fit girl and forget about boys - forget about George.

And he does, eventually. The vodka makes his head fuzzy and all he can focus on is - (very badly) - flirting with the girls at the bar.

He meets one, with red lipstick and deep brown eyes. She's stunning and has a really good sense of humor, and yet he can't stop his eyes wandering to George.

He dances like a stoned octopus but Will finds himself smiling and wishing he was there dancing with him.

The girl gets fed up with him not answering her questions and leaves.

The next morning, he wakes up on the couch of Alex and George's flat. It's a little jarring to awake in their place, especially because he'd been avoiding it for so long.

"Morning," Alex chuckles, looking not much better than Will himself, "Big night, aye?"

Will grumbles as a response, opening the fridge, closing it, and leaning against it, "Barely remember some parts."

Alex mindlessly fiddles with the string of the tea bag peaking from his mug, "Are you and George in a fight?"

Will's eyebrows furrow, "No, why do you think that?"

"Just-" The shorter starts with a shrug, "You guys 'ave been acting weird, but only when around each other. Process of elimination, lad."

"Other than him being annoying I got no problem," Will jokes, and the silence of Alex's response makes his chest stir. "If I'm being honest it's just draining to be around him sometimes, I over analyze everything he says and I don't know why."

"Sounds a bit like you fancy him, mate," Alex shrugs, stirring his tea with a pointed glance. Will feels his face grow warm and he settles on annoyance rather than embarrassment. Like he always does.

He scoffs, feeling himself grow angrier at the way Alex smirks at him, "Ridiculous, I don't even like lads."

Alex clicks his tongue, fixing his fringe as he leans against the counter, "Think about it this way; if you _were_ into dudes, you'd be into George."

The words Alex spoke ring in Will's head as he stands in the kitchen. Sit - he needs to sit or he fears he'll blow over.

If he was into dudes, he'd be into George? What does that even mean? It's ludicrous, frankly, utterly absurd - but if it was so obviously an absurd idea, why was it fucking with his head so badly?

He excuses himself to the balcony, knees pulled to his chest and arms around his legs, one hand holding a beer. It's too early to be drinking, especially when he's so hungover, but as he presses the rim of the beer to his lips and slips his eyes closed he fears he needs it right now.

The sun felt nice, a bit too warm in his hair but otherwise it was refreshing. All too many hours he'd been spending avoiding George recently, sticking to his own flat and declining George's invitations to come over.

Too much time he'd been spending keeping George at a reasonable few feet away, all the smiles he spared him being tight lipped and awkward.

He had been doing this subconsciously until recently; he almost wishes he hadn't had this realization. It hurts more to realize there had to be a reason - a reason for him to be so set off every time George did anything.

Tears sting in his eyes, and that almost makes him angrier. Why did Alex have to open his fucking mouth? Why did George have to be so touchy last night? Why was he all he could think about? He sniffs, wiping his eyes quickly.

The sound of a sliding glass door interrupts his drama, Will can just hope it's Alex or something and not -

"Mate, are you crying on my balcony?" George asks, and Will can hear the concern in his voice without looking at him.

"No," Will mutters, "I'm self loathing on your balcony."

George sits next to him, sliding down the wall of the apartment and stretching his legs out. He doesn't say a word.

It's between comforting and infuriating. Comforting to have him there, and infuriating that he was such a calming presence.

"Piss off," Will whispers, turning his head to the left so George isn't in his frame of vision.

"I know you'd rather Alex or James to talk to but," George sighs, "I am 'here for you', you know."

Will scoffs, sipping his beer as a crutch. He could feel the warmth from George's arm, but his lack of ability to tell if he was imagining it or not sets Will off further.

"Please go away," He asks, "Can't handle you here. Not now."

George is silent and when Will glances at him, he sees that he's not even looking at him anymore. Instead the other's eyes are cast upwards, lip pulled between his teeth.

"If I did something wrong," He starts slowly, "Would you tell me?"

Will feels a thump in his chest, a sick twist, his veins running cold.

George speaks again, "I don't like that you've been avoiding me - and maybe you think I didn't notice but I have and if I fucked up in some way-"

"You didn't do anything," Will interrupts, tossing his free hand up in exasperation, "I'm just fucking stupid!"

George is silent, and he looks like he studies Will's face, lips parted in concern, "Are you okay, Will? Seriously, I'm here for you-"

"What if I liked guys?" Will asks, looking at George as the tears flood back, "Would you treat me different?"

George looks bewildered but his response is quick, "Of course not," He says, quick and sure.

"I just... I don't know, it's stupid, I don't even know if I like guys that way!"

"What do you mean?" George asks, voice annoyingly gentle.

"I mean, sure they can be fit but that doesn't mean I'll enjoy shagging them. Never even snogged a lad, how would I know I like it?"

George purses his lips, seemingly searching Will's face. "So you think you may like guys, but you're not sure?"

"Right. Never even kissed one, how would I know? Not exactly smart to find a random guy on an app, kiss him and say either 'oops sorry I'm straight' or 'oh thank you lad I enjoyed that, bye now!'"

George laughs, shaking his head, and it makes Will feels a bit better, like the air was settling. "It's just hard," Will shrugs, "Got no way to figure myself out it's bloody frustrating!"

"You could kiss Alex," George jokes, easing up the air a little.

"Think I'd rather die," Will smiles, sticking his tongue out before the grin leaves his face.

Will sips his beer and sets it to the other side of him, turning more towards George with a sigh. George himself isn't looking at him anymore, instead his eyes are locked at the space between them.

"Think I could help you figure it out?" He says, slowly, like his words could bite him.

"What do you mean?" Will's eyes burn crimson, suddenly the sun feels all too hot.

George looks up at him, gaze solid and thoughtful, Will wants to slap the prettiness off his face.

It happens far too quickly, George's hand curls around the back of his neck, the hairs standing alert as he pulls him, gently in. George's lips are soft and warm and everything Will imagined - he tastes a bit like mouthwash and last nights liquor, but it's tantalizing.

He can hardly process that he's kissing him before it's over, and the other looks at him for a response.

He can hardly process when he's wrapping his arms around the others waist, pulling him close and reconnecting their lips.

He can hardly process George gasping against his lips and threading his fingers through Will's hair, kissing him back with all the desire George gave him.

Will gets lost in the sensation, warmth exploding at every place they touched. Too much, it was too damn much.

George pulls away, a hand on Will's chest, a soft "Woah," leaving his lips.

They untangle themselves fairly quickly and Will doesn't remember who leaves the balcony first, just that no more words are exchanged and soon enough he's back in his room.

He collapses into his bed and groans, feeling the wait of the world on his back.

He replays the first time he met George in his mind, spiraling into a whirlpool of hazy memories.

He remembers shaking his hand, "Bloody hell!" He laughed, "Strong handshake you got there, mate! Sturdy!"

His hair was disheveled and, _My lord, memeulous is a ginger_! He remembers thinking that George's voice didn't fit the boy himself, a small waist and thin limbs, he looked tiny from every angle. His cheeks had a dust of freckles, so barely there that Will might of well have imagined them.

His voice was different from the videos that Will had seen of his - not drastically, just a bit softer and a tad more posh if Will could sense.

He remembers the way George studied him, sneaking glances as if to take in all of him.

Everything's different now, Will thinks. Kissing George a few days ago was a mistake that he never should've let happen, especially for as long as it did.

Every time Will thought about it for more than a few seconds, he feels his lips tingle. He wipes away the sensation and collapses his head in his hands, "God fucking dammit."

He needs to talk to George.

It's the only thought bouncing through his head, and despite how incredibly afraid he is, he knows he has to.

Alex had invited him to go out tonight with him, James, and George but Will had originally declined. Now, he thinks it's the perfect excuse to ask George about their kiss.

He puts more effort into his appearance, for some reason. Fixes up his hair, finds his favorite pants with the rips, and a shirt that hugs his shoulders nicely.

He feels silly, dressing up for George. George, the boy who doesn't show his face online. The boy who plays with the rings on his hand when he thinks. The boy who keeps lighters on his bedside table for his expensive candles.

He likes him, he realizes. Will _likes_ him, and it's _devastating_ and he feels like he's falling apart.

He considers texting Alex to say he's changed his mind again, but there's a knock on his door and he knows James is already here.

"You look ill," James says in the tube, knuckles pressing lightly against Will's forehead.

He bats his hand away, scowling, "I'm fine, buzzin', actually."

James raises an eyebrow, clicking his tongue and staying quiet. He knows better than to press him, especially when his eyebrows are furrowed and lips pursed.

A few minutes go by before he then asks, "You'd tell me right? If you needed anything?"

Will chews on his lip, thinking. He'd like to say yes, be positive and make his friend feel better, but a dark cloud hangs over his shoulders, "I don't know, mate. I don't think I ever _don't_ need something."

James nods, fingers tapping the handle that kept him stable, "I care about you, s'all."

"Oh, fuck off," Will laughs, "I'll tell you, alright? If I seriously need something."

"I love you," James says, voice comforting in a way Will feels like he needs.

He doesn't give James enough credit, he realizes. He is one of the smartest people Will knows, and he's always giving advice and support on top of that.

"You're a good friend," Will says, "Love you mate - now can we pretend everything is normal for the rest of the night?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

Will actually feels pretty calm until his eyes settle on George. The music is making the floor shake and the lights change from purple to pink to blue to green - it's a bit nauseating.

Alex, George, and a few people Will doesn't know are standing in a circle by a table, Alex is flirting with a lad that looks around the same age as him, and George frankly, looks lost.

Their eyes meet, and instead of the butterflies Will hears about in songs, he's met with a sinking feeling in his chest. It's like the ground is wrapping it's claws around his heart and pulling, and he's being sucked in.

And then George smiles. It's lopsided and he looks nervous, but Will feels himself become stable again. It's like George is some tether to consciousness, his smile a sense of comfort. He feels the butterfies.

Will takes a deep breath and walks forward with James by his side, trying to embody the confidence he otherwise radiated.

"Hey," he says like he's exhaling the words.

Alex turns to him and James and goes to hug them both, though it's hard with how much they tower over him, "Glad you guys could make it finally!"

Will pokes at his side to make him laugh and glances at George again, who's staring at the brim of his glass like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

A few minutes of attempting small talk with everyone go past before Will touches George's arm, leaning in close to say, "Can we chat?"

It takes him a moment, but he nods, and the two push through the crowd to get outside. The air is cold and pushes against Will's bare arms. The hair on the back of his neck stands and he runs his fingers over the skin, almost like he's telling himself to calm down.

"You look like hell," George says, leaning against the brick wall and tilting his head to the left.

"Thanks," Will smiles, pulling his lip between his teeth as he thinks.

"Will-" George starts, at the same tome Will utters a 'So-'.

They both stop and share a nervous laugh.

"Got a feeling I know what you wanna talk about," George says, "Am I right?"

"Think so," Will can feel the pressure of George's kiss against his lips again, and it's almost dizzying.

"I've tried to hard to figure out how to word my feelings," He starts again, "But I've never been good at that. Will, the. . . the kiss we shared, I feel like it's crumbled every sense of self I have. I'm straight, I've always been straight, but I couldn't stop myself from kissing you, and it's absolutely tearing me up inside."

"George," he breathes, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," He assures, "I was the one who kissed you, and I shouldn't have."

Will shakes his head, looking up to where the stars are covered by gray clouds, "No, it's not that, I'm sorry because I wanted you to kiss me, and I still do, and I could've left it at that but I brought you out here to talk to try and confess feelings for you which I'm a fucking dumbass for doing because you're straight, and I'm not apparently and I have stupid ass feelings for you. So I'm sorry."

George blinks a few times, fists clenching and unclenching around the air. His face is twisted in either empathy or pure confusion, either option makes Will's head spin.

Will turns and walks away. George calls after him. He ignores it.

Ignoring it is easier than turning around and facing the boy he'd just impulsively confessed feelings for. The boy who didn't reciprocate those feelings. The boy who he'd probably just lost over dumb feelings and a dumb kiss.

He remembers it in flashes - the sun making his scalp feel warm, the kindness in George's eyes, how perfect kissing him felt. And it did feel perfect, like a sea of sparkling water evening out across the horizon. It's all he can think about.

_He_ is all he can think about. For days - four and a half days, exactly, he wallows in his flat. Gee pops in, once or twice a day, to ask if he's filming anything soon or if he needs anything. He appreciates her and how she doesn't prod.

He hears a knock at the door and calls, "Gee? Could you get that?"

He doesn't hear a response and instead another knock. Will rolls his eyes, remembering that his roommate in question was out with friends. He pushes away from his desk and jogs to answer the door, swinging it open and feeling his chest drop.

"George. . ."

"I didn't say enough the other day. I didn't say what I needed to, or wanted to, and it resulted in you hurting and that's not what I wanted. The truth is, I don't know what I'm feeling! You were my first boy kiss, and I enjoyed it, a lot, but I don't know who I am, Will, and you confessing to me forced to confront those feelings," George presses his fingers to his forehead and inhales sharply, like he hadn't breathed the whole time. "I don't know who the hell I am."

Will feels his walls drop when he sees George's eyes sparkle with tears. He's never seen him cry. Not during the hardest moments throughout his career has George shed a tear.

"Hey hey," Will says, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. "Come in, we can talk."

George doesn't move at first though. He grasps Will and clings to him with all his might, breath uneven and unstable.

It almost hurts Will even more to know that someone he's always seen as a beacon of strength is crumbling. Because of him.

He leads him in and they sit on the couch, Will offers him tissues and waits for him to feel comfortable enough to talk.

"I'm sorry for showing up out of nowhere-" George starts, but Will shakes his head,

"Don't be. Seriously. You're braver than I am."

"It's just," George sighs, looking at the cieling, "I've always had such a concrete image of myself, but you, and being near you, and kissing you? Throws away everything I'd thought."

"So you have feelings for me?" Will asks, chastising himself for getting excited at the thought.

"Will," George breathes, "It's not that easy. Of course I do - but I still don't know how to go about it. What if It was just a one time spark?"

Will considers it, but shake his head.

"Kiss me," Will says against his better, more rational judgement. "Kiss me again and you'll know if it's a one time thing or if we actually have something."

George's eyes flicker to his lips back to his eyes, "Think that's a good idea?"

"I'll be honest here mate, I really want to kiss you again - but if it helps you figure yourself out like it did me, then I'm all for it."

George's lips twitch into a smile and he rolls his eyes, leaning over slowly. Will loses all self control in that moment, "Come here," He mutters, cupping his face and pulling him in.

Will feels everything he did the first time minus the confusion. It's soft and comfortable and George tastes nice - like chapstick and everything Will's ever needed.

George deepens it this time, hands on his shoulders and leg stretching over Will's hips and suddenly he's straddling him. He pulls away, for a moment, looking up and down Will's face and resting his palms on his chest.

Will smiles, tilts his chin up, and George is kissing him again.

They don't need words right then - George breaks the kiss minutes later and Will assures, "Gee is out for the night," and they just keep kissing.

It's perfect and warm and filled with unspoken promises. It means something, truly, and they both know it. It's something.

It's the dim lamp light illuminating Will's room as they stumble in. It's how pretty George looks against his sheets and how his freckles seem more defined from this angle.

It's how George keeps promising him that he's okay when Will asks and that he _wants_ this just as much as Will does. It's how George's back arches off the mattress to be closer to him as Will slicks his fingers. It's how everything is slow and careful, like both are too afraid to let go of the moment. It's George pulling him down for another kiss and moaning against his lips.

It's anything and everything in one night, unsaid feelings bubbling over as Will pants above him. Brushing back locks of George's hair and kissing all over his face. Rubbing his thighs comfortingly as George comes back to the present. Cleaning them both up and kissing him some more.

It's so much in just over an hour, and Will is tired and his eyes are struggling to stay open, but through the darkness he stares at George anyway. His eyelashes rest so delicately on his cheeks like a whisper of something gentle. The scar on his nose looks harsher in the dark but he still looks calm. Peaceful.

They're gonna have to talk about what they are, Will knows. But right now, with moonlight filtering through the curtains and George's sleeping body next to his, he thinks he'll be okay. They'll both be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> im actually quite proud of this so please leave any comments or kudos and it'll be highly appreciated!! (also maybe requests for this pairing or others owo)


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